


A Thousand Words

by Wincesteriffic Kaz (Disasteriffic_Kaz)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disasteriffic_Kaz/pseuds/Wincesteriffic%20Kaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Info: A picture on a long lost phone leads to a revelation of just how far Heaven was once willing to go to keep the Winchesters on their course to the apocalypse. Set somewhere in Season 8 after Sam has begun the trials. Dean/Sam</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand Words

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This story was prompted by my Pimp Momma Fly and Ok. It’s angsty and sappy and happy and sweet and I don’t even know where most of it came from. LOL So…enjoy!  
> Wincest, ‘First time’
> 
> The original prompt is at the end of the story. :D
> 
> Graphic depictions within.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own 'em but if I did…they'd never get dressed. Heh heh heh
> 
> ~Reviews are Love~  
> -0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sam went along the shelves of Rufus’ old cabin again making sure he hadn’t missed a book he actually wanted. He and Dean were cleaning most of their stuff out and moving it to the Men of Letters bunker now they had an actual home. He smiled. He still couldn’t get over how much Dean was enjoying ‘nesting’ as he put it, and the cooking…Sam chuckled. Dean was surprising him daily with his cooking skills.

He knelt and dropped his head to the floor. Having found one of his copies of Shakespeare under the bed, he didn’t want to risk missing something else. Sam pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and shone it under the shelves and frowned. “Huh. How’d you get under here?” He stretched an arm underneath and came out with a cell phone. “I think…” He turned it over in his hand as he sat back on his knees and flipped it open. “…yep. One of Dean’s old phones. Hey, Dean?” Sam called and looked out the open front door of the cabin but his brother must still have his head in the trunk. He stared in surprise when pressing the power button actually turned the phone on. “Nice.”

Sam got to his feet and pulled up the contacts to see if there were any he and Dean didn’t already have in their current phones. His eyes stung when he found Bobby’s old number at the house in Sioux Falls. He closed the contacts list and swiped a hand over his eyes irritably. That loss still hurt and he imagined it would for a very long time. He pulled up the photos and started flipping through them for anything useful and stopped, staring at a picture of himself.

“What…the hell?” Sam whispered in something close to shock because the picture was of him…naked and stretched out on a bed, looking at the camera with a grin. He flipped to the next; him again and equally as naked, though this time it was a closer view of his face and chest, and a very recognizable hand and ring rested over his heart. “Fuck. What…what the hell is this?” He flipped to the next photo, almost afraid to look, and felt all the blood rush out of his head. It was a picture Dean had obviously taken holding the phone out and away to capture the moment -- him and Dean sharing what was clearly a passionate, loving kiss if the looks on both their faces were anything to go by and the way Dean was gently cradling the side of his face to deepen the kiss.

“Hey, Sammy! Dude, I think I found one of your old socks in the trunk.” Dean strode into the cabin with a laugh. “Either that or something died in…” His voice trailed off when he saw the pale, clearly shocked face of his little brother. “Sam? What’s wrong?” Dean’s protective instincts kicked in with an instant fear that something new was popping up to hurt his brother because of the damn trials. He went to Sam and grabbed his arm and then saw the phone open in his hand. “Hey, isn’t that my old phone?” When Sam didn’t answer him, Dean took it from his hand and looked closely at him. “Sam, dude. You’re starting to worry me here. The look in his brother’s eyes was close to actual shock, the kind you grabbed a blanket and headed to a hospital for.

“Pictures,” Sam said in a rough, soft voice. “Dean, what? I don’t…what the hell are those?”

“Pictures?” Dean turned the phone to see the screen and his mouth fell open in absolute shock. “Holy…what the fuck is this?”

“More. There’s more.” Sam looked over at the phone. “You have to…I don’t understand. That can’t…can’t be us. Right?”

Sam’s tone was the one that always meant he expected his big brother to make the scary thing make sense ever since he was a child, and Dean tried to rise to the occasion as he scrolled to the next photo and the next with confusion and anger boiling up. “No way this is us. Dude, I think I’d remember locking lips with you and…and…” Dean stared wide-eyed at an image of the top of Sam’s head with his mouth around his… “No. No fuckin’ way.” He slapped the phone closed and threw it on the table as if needing to not be touching it. “Shapeshifters. Has to be. Or the Levi’s who impersonated us that time.”

Sam shook his head and managed to look at Dean finally. “But…it’s your phone. How could…I mean, how could someone, shifters, anyone….take those and we never knew?” He took hold of the bookcase to steady himself. “The bed.” He narrowed his eyes and looked at Dean again. “I recognize it.”

Dean was still staring at the phone, expecting it to transform into some evil thing he could kill and erase those images from his mind. “It was a bed, Sam. Could be any…”

“It’s my old bed at…at Bobby’s.” Sam said softly. “And…there was no tattoo.” He brushed a hand over his chest where the anti-possession charm was forever inked. He shook his head and had a bad moment with doubts swirling through his head, fear that somehow he was cracking up again and this…the pictures…wasn’t real. “Dean?”

“Shit. Ok. Take it easy.” Dean uncomfortably took Sam’s arm and nudged him to a chair. He recognized that tone in his brother’s voice and it wasn’t a good one. It was the lost tone he’d heard far too much of after Sam’s wall had fallen. The thought of Sam’s wall gave him a thought. “Castiel! Get your feather ass down here!” He knelt and looked at his brother’s increasingly frightened gaze. “Sam. You’re not cracking up again. This is….well, I don’t know what the hell this is, but it ain’t your eggs cracking again, alright? Sam? I see it too, and…I’m just as freaked out as you are.”

Sam focused on Dean’s eyes, trying to believe him, but it was hard. He nodded anyway to try and reassure him…if it even was Dean. Maybe the trials were weakening whatever control Cas had given him. “Alright.” Sam said softly anyway. If it was real, he didn’t want Dean knowing just how afraid he suddenly was.

Dean waited. He stood and called Castiel a few more times. He sat and prayed, and a half hour later had to resign himself that the angel either couldn’t or wouldn’t answer just then. “Son of a bitch. Ok. Come on.” He scooped the phone off the table and grudgingly put it in his pocket and took Sam’s arm. It worried him that Sam hadn’t moved since he’d put him in the chair and had actually spent his time staring at the scarred palm of his left hand. “Sammy. Up. We’re goin’ to the batcave.”

“Alright.” Sam stood and let Dean lead him outside and to the Impala. He sat in his seat, watching Dean walk around the front of the car and couldn’t decide if it felt real or surreal.

Dean watched him from the corner of his eye as he drove. He didn’t like that Sam seemed to be completely zoned out or how badly the pictures had thrown him. “Sam.” Dean slapped a hand into his brother’s leg to get his attention and the glazed eyes that turned to meet his didn’t help his level of calm. “This is real. You know that right?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “I know. It’s real.” It was a hollow reassurance for something he still wasn’t sure he believed, not with those pictures nor the faint sounds of jangling chains that kept sneaking up on him, making him want to jump and run.

“Dammit.” Dean said softly and put his eyes back on the road. He drove back to the bunker with single-minded determination, driving faster than he probably should have and silently praying to Castiel in his mind over and over, hoping the angel would damn well pay attention at some point. He wasn’t really sure Cas would even have any answers, but as far as Dean knew, the guy had the whole of their lives in his head somewhere, so, if they were lucky, he could shed some light on those messed up pictures.

“I don’t understand how that can be us.” Sam said softly, finally forcing himself to come out of his head a little. “I mean…we’d remember, wouldn’t we?”

Dean sighed, awkward for a moment because of the pictures about giving his brother the comfort he always had without a second thought. He shook his head at himself and stretched his arm over the seat, dropping his hand to the back of his brother’s neck. His fingers slid over Sam’s always warm skin and he felt some of the tension ease out of him like it always did. “We’re alright, Sam. Whatever kinda messed up crap those pictures are, we’re alright.”

Sam leaned back into the warm weight of Dean’s hand on his neck like he always did, only now he wondered if perhaps once there had been a more significant meaning behind it. He closed his eyes and worked to empty his mind. Those thoughts weren’t doing anything but driving him further down the rabbit hole. He concentrated instead on the familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine as she moved over the road toward home.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean nudged Sam down the stairs into the bunker. He wanted to get him lying down but Sam detoured into the library and dropped into one of the chairs heavily. “Sam?”

“I’m ok.” Sam said as if by rote. He wasn’t coughing blood just then so…he was ok.

Dean looked around, trying to decide what to do and headed for the kitchen. He didn’t really understand why seeing those pictures was upsetting him so much, apart from the obvious -- naked pics of his little brother on his damn phone and visual evidence that they may have locked lips at some point and he couldn’t remember it. He shook his head. “This is fucked up.” Dean muttered and went to the refrigerator. He pulled out the six-pack of beer and turned to go back to Sam. “Shit, Sam!” He stopped, startled to find his brother already in the door of the kitchen. “Make a damn noise or something, dude.”

“Sorry.” Sam managed a smirk and slid onto a stool at the counter. He nodded when Dean pulled a beer out and held it up, took it and twisted the cap off. He took a long drink from the bottle and then played absently with the cap on the counter.

“Sam.” Dean started and stopped with no idea what to say really. He set the six-pack on the counter and leaned against the refrigerator.

“Why is this screwing us up so much?” Sam asked, sensing that Dean was wondering the same thing. “They had to be shifters or something. I mean, there’s no way that was…that couldn’t actually be us in those photos.”

Dean watched Sam look up at him with that face that clearly asked if it could be, and he shook his head. “I, uh…I don’t know, Sammy. I suppose maybe a spell?  Or a curse?  Something that made us….” He shook his head.  “Maybe something like that that we had no memory of once it wore off?” He saw Sam considering that possibility uncertainly. It WAS possible…  
  
He took the old phone out and looked at it. He’d had the thing since shortly before Sam went to Stanford. He recognized it and couldn’t remember exactly when he’d lost it or how it had ended up at Rufus’ cabin. Dean seemed to recall always shoving it in the bottom of his bag wherever they went and never bothering to turn it on or look at it…just making sure he kept it. He frowned. “Why would I keep it?” He muttered softly and flipped it open.

“We always keep old phones.” Sam shrugged.

“No. No, I mean…” Dean scowled. “I don’t know what the hell I mean.” He opened the pictures and blew out a breath at the first one that came up.  It was of Sam, and he knew damn well that was _his_ hand on his little brother’s bare chest being far too familiar. He found he couldn’t look away from the image or the smile on Sam’s face. It was happy and something else he’d never really seen in Sam’s eyes before…content.

“Dean.”

Dean jumped and nearly dropped the phone at Castiel’s voice from beside him. He spun and blew out an aggrieved breath. “Jesus, Cas! I’m gonna have a damn heart attack today.”

“You called me. I assume there was a reason.” Castiel looked between the two men, studying their faces. “What is wrong?”

Sam shook his head and stared down at his now-empty beer bottle. “Don’t even know where to start,” he said softly.

“Cas.” Dean looked at the phone and scrolled to the one of him and Sam kissing. “I need you to tell me if you know what the hell this is.”

“It’s a phone, Dean. I have one too.” Castiel said, completely deadpan and not understanding exactly what was being asked of him.

“No, for cryin’…look at the damn picture.” Dean rolled his eyes at the angel’s usual obliviousness and held the phone up. Dean watched him lean in and look at the small screen. He saw Castiel’s eyebrows fly up his forehead, and then Dean scowled because, just before Cas schooled his face back to its customary blankness, Dean had seen it; recognition. “Son of a bitch.”

“He knows.” Sam said and nodded, meeting Dean’s eyes. He’d seen it as well. It had been just a flicker, but they knew the angel too well. “Cas. You need to tell us what’s going on.”

“I don’t know what…”

“Cut the crap, Cas!” Dean yelled and dropped the phone on the counter next to Sam. He had no patience just then for the angel’s dissembling. “You know what this is. I saw it in your face. We both did. What the hell is this? Talk to us!”

Castiel sighed and dropped his head, taking a moment to collect himself. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Sam straightened. “Did this…did this happen or not? Shifters or us or is it…am I…”

“Stop.” Dean heard the rising tension in his brother’s voice and grabbed his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You’re not losin’ it again, remember?”

Sam nodded and took a deep breath, trying to swallow the panic back.

Castiel watched them, the concern on Dean’s face and the fear on Sam’s. It took him only a moment to assess what was happening, that the discovery of the pictures and their seeming impossibility was weakening the control Castiel himself had given Sam over the hell in his mind. He shook his head slowly and said a silent prayer to a father he didn’t think was listening anymore that Dean would not hate him forever for telling the truth...or for what he had done.

“They are real, Sam.” Castiel said softly and waited for Sam’s eyes to meet his in shock. He nodded and then looked at Dean.

“Define ‘real’, Cas.” Dean asked and knew that he wasn’t going to like this.

“Maybe you should sit down, Dean.” Castiel saw the warning on Dean’s face for what it was and nodded. He tried to think where to begin. “Heaven upholds true love in any form. That is the first thing you should know. No one has ever been judged for who they love, man or woman. Angels do not…see in terms of straight or gay or…We simply see…two parts of a soul joined. The mechanics are meaningless to us.”

“Yeah, I get that. I’ve seen you with a stripper.” Dean rolled his eyes and tried to keep his temper. “You’re not clearing this up.”

“You need to understand that we only see souls.” Castiel looked between them. “You understand mated souls, how the Cupids work.” He got a nod from each of them. “Sometimes those mated souls are born together. It’s rare, and human society…shuns the practice. Angels do not.”

“Wait.” Sam raised a hand because his shocked mind finally finished spinning its wheels and knew where the angel was going. “Cas…”

“Born together?” Dean frowned and then his eyes blew wide as he looked over at his brother. “Oh, come on. Are you saying…”

“You and Sam are mated souls. Two halves of a whole.” Castiel nodded.

Dean stumbled back into the refrigerator, staring at the floor. “Ok. Ok, wait. This is just…there’s no way in hell. I mean, ok, fine maybe we are…whatever, but I would never…Sam would never…no way, Cas!”

“The aversion you’re feeling is…artificial.” Castiel said it softly. “You were going to leave your father and hunting. You and Sam. You were going to follow him to Stanford and leave hunting behind, but heaven had a plan and couldn’t…wouldn’t…allow that to happen.” He looked at Sam and saw the weight of misery fall into the young man’s eyes with understanding. “Sam had to meet Jessica. He had to fall in love with her.” He looked back to the growing anger on Dean’s face and felt the first stirring of fear. “He would never have done that if you were together, so we…changed it.”

“You changed it?” Dean’s voice rose, for the moment distracted from the disturbing idea of being in love with his brother for the more easily understood realization that heaven had messed with their heads yet again. “You just…whitewashed our memories and changed us? Tell me it wasn’t you, Cas.” Dean looked at him pleadingly. His trust in the angel was already so damaged, he didn’t know if it would survive this betrayal too, but Castiel’s eyes fell from his with guilt.

“Dean, I…I was a soldier. I had my orders.” Castiel’s voice was heavy with regret. “I had no choice then. I didn’t…I knew no better. I am…so sorry, Dean. Sam.”

Sam picked up the phone from the counter and looked at the picture of them kissing. “When…” Sam swallowed. “Cas, when was this?” He held up the phone so the angel could see the image of them kissing so lovingly. “When?”

Castiel nodded solemnly. “It was the night you received your acceptance letter to Stanford, Sam. You were…celebrating.”

Sam turned the image back to stare at it while his mind whirled. “So nothing’s been real since this night. Nothing I’ve…we’ve felt for anyone has been real since this.”

“Don’t, Sam.” Dean’s voice was hoarse with emotion, anger, and loss, and it was clear Sam was suffering as much. He scrubbed a hand over his face and found he didn’t want to look at the angel just then. “Does all of heaven know how you screwed us?”

Castiel shook his head. “No. I remember because I am the one who wiped your minds. I still hold the memories.” He moved back a step from Dean, not completely sure the elder Winchester would be able to restrain himself from physical violence, and knew that if he lashed out, he would hurt himself far more than he would the angel, assuming he didn’t have an angel blade up his sleeve. “I was instructed to add an aversion into each of your minds to prevent you from…connecting with each other ever again.”

“An aversion.” Dean growled and clenched his fists. “What the hell does that mean?”

“No chick flicks.” Sam said it softly in an almost broken voice and turned watery eyes up to his brother.

Dean jolted with understanding; His own personal line that kept an emotional distance between him and Sam. Oh, there were hugs and the uncountable comforting touches he had given his little brother over the years because Sam _was_ his little brother and that was just part of his job, but there had always been a line, a point beyond which Dean would joke or snarl and put some distance between them. Now he knew that compulsion wasn’t even his. “That was you, Cas?”

“The wording is yours, and I don’t exactly understand it, but the thought behind it…yes. I’m sorry.” Castiel felt that stirring of emotion in his gut that always confused him. Dean told him it was ‘family,’ and he wondered if the feeling was always supposed to hurt this way. “I can’t return the memories. Too much time has gone between, but I can remove the aversion that has stopped you from truly feeling the bond all these years.” He looked between them, seeking any absolution they might give him for once blindly following orders he understood now were a mockery. “The choice is yours.”

“Get rid of it,” Sam said quickly and stood. He staggered for a moment and was grateful for Dean’s steadying hand at his elbow. “I am…done with angels and demons and God knows what else screwing with our heads! Get rid of it, Cas! Please!” Sam felt like he was drowning, gasping for breath, and leaned on the counter. “What else have you changed? What other things don’t we remember because _heaven_ …” Sam sneered the word. “…decided we shouldn’t?”

“Take it easy, Sammy.” Dean was every bit as devastated as his brother. The things Castiel was telling them were turning his world on its head and giving him even more reasons to truly believe all angels were douches.

“No, Sam.” Castiel shook his head sadly. “I swear the only memories I have ever removed were these.” He gestured to the phone. “The only…’screwing’ I have ever done with your heads was the aversion.” He met Dean’s gaze solemnly. “I was told many more times to interfere with your memories again. I refused.” He swallowed. “They were…unhappy.”

“You mean they punished you for it.” Dean said angrily.

Castiel nodded. “I’m not sure I have ever been the…good little soldier I was meant to be.”

“Take it away, Cas.” Sam repeated and looked at Dean. “I’ll understand if you want to keep it because this…” He waved the phone and then set it down. “…it’s wrong on so many levels, but I can’t…I can’t have something in my head I know doesn’t belong there. Not anymore. Cas, please.”

“Sit, Sam.” Castiel moved toward him and then stopped, looking askance at Dean before approaching his brother. Aversion or not, Sam was Dean’s now as he always had been, just not the way they had been meant to be. “I will not hurt him.”

“You already have.” Dean growled it, but he moved back a step while Sam sat and let Cas come to him.

“Close your eyes, Sam.” Castiel laid a hand over Sam’s face in the same gesture he had used in the asylum, once more taking something from Sam that was there because of him and shouldn’t have been. He said another silent prayer that this would be the last time he hurt either of them. ‘Please let me better, Father.’

Sam sucked in a breath and felt an odd sensation begin to trickle down from his head, like an expanding drop of cold water. He shivered and, just for a moment, the world seemed to drop away from him and then came back with a rush. He opened his eyes gasping and looking into Castiel’s blue eyes before the angel moved away.

“Sam?” Dean took his place and watched Sam’s eyes come up to meet his.

“I’m alright.” Sam said, a little breathless and tried to decide if anything had changed.

Dean scowled. “You don’t, like…wanna jump my bones or anything, do you?”

Sam gave a watery laugh and shook his head. “No. I don’t…” He frowned. “…I don’t feel any different.” He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but he felt like nothing had changed. And yet, as he looked at his brother he did feel…lighter somehow.

“It’s a subtle thing, Sam.” Castiel tilted his head. “You haven’t changed. I have simply taken away a block that didn’t belong.”

Dean studied Sam for a few moments more and then straightened. The idea of being…intimate with Sam was…stomach churning. He rolled his eyes at himself and paced away. He was leery of letting Castiel rummage around in his head, knowing it had already happened. His innate distrust made him want to punch Cas in the face and send him on his way, but…Dean sighed. There was something in his head that didn’t belong there and it would, he knew, drive him slowly mad knowing that, whether he could stomach the implications or not.

“Do it.” Dean said and turned to Cas.

“Are you sure, Dean?” Castiel took a step toward him hesitantly.

“Just shut up and do it, dammit.” Dean glared. “We’re not done talkin’ about this, Cas.”

“I understand.” Castiel raised his hand to Dean’s face, placing his fingers lightly and closed his eyes. As with Sam, it took concentration to find that little kernel of aversion he had placed so long ago and withdraw it along with every tendril it had spawned into Dean’s psyche. He collected it all carefully together, pulling it back into himself and took his hand away. He kept a hand near Dean’s elbow in case he should stumble in reaction.

Dean’s eyes shot open on a gasp and he staggered back a step, noticing distantly that Castiel had stayed beside him and hovered ready to steady him. “Shit.” He waved the angel off and rubbed a hand over his head as the odd sensation faded.

“You alright, Dean?” Sam asked, concerned at the almost shell-shocked look on his big brother’s face.

“Yeah. Peachy.” Dean looked over at Castiel with a frown. “Anything else I need to know about?”

“No, Dean.” Castiel shook his head and then looked up with a sigh. “I have to go.”

“Cas, wait…” Dean snarled when the angel vanished. “Well, that was damn convenient timing.” He whipped his head over when Sam started to cough and groaned. “Ok. Ok, come on. Bed.”

Sam sucked in air between coughs and smiled in relief when for once, blood didn’t come up at the end of it. He nodded. “Yeah, alright.” He was exhausted and didn’t argue when Dean pulled him off the stool and steered him out of the kitchen. He still didn’t feel any different and was still struggling to reconcile everything Castiel had told them with their lives.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean ducked a stack of books as they flew off the shelves at him. “Anytime, Sam!” It had been six days since Castiel’s disturbing revelations, and, as far as Dean could tell, nothing had changed. He smirked and blasted a round of rock salt into the materializing spirit. Sam had given him exactly two days’ worth of hiding out in the bunker while Dean waited for the damn sky to fall and then convinced him that nothing was ‘wrong’ with them and they needed to be doing something constructive.

“Working on it!” Sam’s voice yelled back to him from downstairs.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Work faster!” Sam had found them a good, old-fashioned ghost to get rid of a few towns over. The spirit, an old woman who had died in the house, had a nasty habit of beating senseless anyone who disturbed her collection of Hummel figurines. Dean grabbed another of the creepy little sculptures from the shelves in her dining room and smashed it with a grin. It made an effective way to keep her attention on him and off his little brother who was digging her up in the cellar where she’d been buried as per her last will.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Was that yours?” Dean chuckled as she reappeared in front of him with a howl of rage and shot rock salt into her face again. He’d gone through half her collection already and picked up another. “Man, these things are fugly.”

“Almost there!” Sam yelled and cleared the last of the dirt from the shallow grave. He heard Dean taunting the woman’s spirit above him and smirked. Dean was having way too much fun destroying her collection of ugly little statues. He slammed the shovel into the lid of the coffin and pried it open. Sam tossed the shovel and turned to grab the salt and lighter fluid. “Oh, shit!” He gasped and flung himself backward as the spirit appeared in front of him. “Dean! You need to piss her off!” He looked around as his shovel rattled and then flew down into the grave at him.

Dean slammed the figurine in his hand into the wall with Sam’s shout and grabbed another. “Hey bitch!” He tossed it in the air and blew it apart with rock salt. A moment later, she came to him with a rage-filled face. “That’s right. Come to poppa.” He slammed the butt of the shotgun into another figurine and dashed to the side when she lunged for him. Dean aimed the shotgun at her face and then lowered it with a satisfied smile as she howled in fury and went up in flames.

“Nice, Sammy.” Dean put the shotgun over his shoulder and headed for the stairs. “Ghost is toast, dude!” He called as he jogged down them and stopped at the bottom, frowning. “Sam?” His brother was beside the open, burning grave and hunched over his left leg. “You ok?” Dean lurched into motion and was at his side on his knees.

“Yeah.” Sam said through gritted teeth. “She, uh…threw my own shovel at me.” He said it ruefully and moved his hands so Dean could see the bleeding wound in his thigh.

“You know, you’re supposed to duck flying objects, dumbass.” Dean said with a laugh even as he worried over the amount of blood. “Ok, you walk?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dean I can walk. Geez, I’m not crippled.” He held an arm up and Dean took it, pulling him to his feet.

“Whatever, bitch.” Dean chuckled and got them moving away from the grave and up the stairs.

“Jerk.” Sam tossed back and snorted, then sucked in a breath as taking the first step made his leg hurt worse. “Shit.”

“Take it easy. I gotcha.” Dean soothed and pulled Sam’s arm over his shoulders to support him better. He put Sam in a chair once they reached the kitchen. “Sit still.” He rummaged through the dusty cabinets until he found a towel and knelt beside him.

“It’s not that bad.” Sam assured him though it was still bleeding sluggishly.

“Uh huh.” Dean pulled open the hole in Sam’s jeans to get a look and shook his head. “It’s gonna need stitches.” He gently wrapped the towel around Sam’s thigh and tugged it firm until his brother hissed out a breath in discomfort. “I’ll do it back home. You ready?”

“Yeah.” Sam slid his arm back over his brother’s shoulders and let him pull him to his feet again. Dean’s arm was a comforting weight around his waist as they walked back to the car. He rolled his eyes all the way back to the bunker with Dean giving him concerned glances every few minutes. “I’m not bleeding to death, dude. Chill out.” Sam laughed as they parked.

Dean glared at him. “Like you’d tell me if you were.”

“Hey!” Sam protested as Dean got out. “Drama queen,” he said under his breath and opened his door, climbing out before Dean could get around to him.

“I heard that.” Dean said and smirked at Sam’s surprised look.

“Did not.”

“No; but now I know you said somethin’ after I got out of the car.” Dean chuckled at Sam’s irritated snarl and helped him down the stairs and into the bunker. He pulled Sam around when he tried to head to the library. “This is gonna be easier if you’re lying down.”

“I can stitch it up myself.” Sam snorted and shook his head when Dean ignored him. “Ok, fine.”

Dean pulled him down the hall and stopped at the door of his bedroom. “First aid kit’s still in here.” He said as he maneuvered Sam through the door and let him sit on the side of his bed. “Don’t bleed on my awesome mattress.”

Sam laughed and pulled his jacket off, tossing it to the end of the bed. “Priorities, Dean.”

“Damn right.” Dean grinned and grabbed his towel from that morning off the back of his chair. “Here. Move up and lay down.” He helped Sam get situated at the head of the bed and then folded the towel and lifted Sam’s leg so he could slide it underneath. “Sorry.” He said when Sam groaned softly in pain.

“I’m good…just aches.” Sam let his head thump back into the headboard while Dean unwound the towel from his thigh.

“Ok, pants off. It’ll be easier plus, we can maybe sew these back together.” Dean chuckled at the look on Sam’s face. “What? I can sew.”

“I’ve seen your sewing.” Sam laughed as he unbuckled his belt and lifted his hips, sliding his jeans down. “You’re great with stitches, but, dude…remember that time you tried to sew up the hole in Dad’s favorite shirt?”

“Hey! I totally fixed that.” Dean slapped his brother’s arm and laid the first aid kit out on the bed beside him.

“It looked like a drunk five year old got at the sewing kit.” Sam chuckled and yelped when Dean poured disinfectant over the wound. “Ow!”

“That’ll teach ya’. Now shut up and lemme work.” Dean rolled his eyes and bent to actually clean the long gash. It was several inches and deep enough he knew it hurt like hell, but Sam, as always, gritted his teeth and gave Dean a small smile of reassurance every time he glanced up.

Sam put his head back again and focused on breathing while Dean wrapped one hand around his thigh and started putting in his customary neat row of stitches. Sam thought back on the last week and realized he and Dean had been...easier with each other than they had been for a long time. It wasn’t any one thing that told him something was different; it was a general sort of feeling, like something nagging had settled. He looked down at Dean’s hand warm around his thigh, noting the absent way Dean’s thumb moved slowly back and forth offering comfort he was sure his big brother wasn’t even aware of and smiled.

“Few more.” Dean said softly and tied off the next stitch. He frowned, realizing that he was enjoying the feel of Sam’s skin under his hands. He shifted his free hand a little higher as he started the next stitch, nearly to the hollow of Sam’s hip and heard his brother suck in a breath though he said nothing. A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he flicked his eyes over, nearly startling when he saw that Sam seemed to be enjoying his attentions…a little too much if the hardening line of his cock in his briefs was anything to go by. As if Sam sensed it, his little brother tugged the end of his flannel down to try and hide it. “Huh.”

“What?” Sam blinked and looked down at the nearly closed wound.

“Nothin’.” Dean shook his head and started the next to last stitch. The picture of him and Sam kissing flowed into his mind without him thinking about it and he turned it over in his thoughts while he tied the stitch and started the last. For the first time, he found it didn’t bother him, and, as Sam’s hips twitched under his, he realized that parts of him certainly didn’t mind the thought at all anymore as he felt his own cock twitch with interest with so much of Sam’s skin under him. He tied the last stitch, cleaned the closed wound, and set about taping a bandage over it. When he’d finished, Dean laid his open palm over it, spreading his fingers along Sam’s thigh until they brushed the bottom of his boxer briefs, watching his own motions and feeling Sam’s skin under his fingers with something like fascination, and he smirked when Sam’s hips shifted again.

“Dean?” Sam looked down at him and caught his breath when Dean’s green eyes looked up at him questioningly. Sam nodded. He put a tentative hand out to Dean’s jaw, brushing his fingers over the stubble as his brother straightened and leaned in toward him until their breaths mingled from inches away, their eyes never breaking contact, both reflecting a combination of uncertainty and wonder.

“This alright, Sammy?” Dean asked softly as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Sam’s. He just suddenly couldn’t stand the distance between them any longer.

“Yeah.” Sam’s voice was a breathless whisper, and his breath left him as Dean’s lips pressed softly against his. They were softer than he’d ever imagined, warm, and they slid against his as though they belonged there.

Dean waited for it to feel wrong as he pressed the chastest of kisses to his brother’s lips. He thought it should feel bad or wrong…but it didn’t. It felt right. Right and comfortable and he slid a hand around the curve of Sam’s jaw, deepening the kiss, and it felt so familiar it brought the sting of tears to his eyes.

Sam’s breath caught in his chest and a small moan escaped him as Dean’s tongue licked along the crease of his lips, asking permission. He opened his mouth and the soft moan became louder with need. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s back and held him to him, afraid at any moment that Dean would think better of this and leave him, and the thought made him hurt.

Dean broke the kiss, breathing heavily just as Sam was and rested their foreheads together again. “Easy, Sammy,” he said softly as he felt his brother’s heart galloping in his chest. “You ok?”

“Don’t.” Sam managed and shook his head, tightening his arms and a little humiliated as he felt a tear roll down his face. “Don’t go.”

Dean smoothed a thumb over Sam’s cheek and felt the wet trail of a tear. “It’s ok, little brother.” He breathed it into Sam’s mouth. “Not goin’ anywhere. I’ve got you.”

Sam’s breath punched out of him with that reassurance, and he put his lips to Dean’s again, needing to feel him. He opened his hands on Dean’s back, running them up to his shoulders and then down to his waist. The low sound of a groan rumbling out of his big brother’s chest sent a thrill through him and he slid his hands under the back of Dean’s shirt. The sensation of skin and honed muscle under his hands made him moan again.

Castiel stood silent and invisible in the corner of the room and watched for just a moment with a soft smile. He knew, as he had the day he’d changed their memories, that, without the aversion, Sam and Dean would always find their way together, and it didn’t surprise him that it had taken only a week. It was beautiful. The meeting of two souls meant to be together gave off a light that celestial beings could see like a beacon. He saw that light now for the first time in so many, many years and sighed. He needed no other proof that heaven and angels were not always right. He gave a silent apology and left them to rediscover each other as they were meant to be.

Dean groaned into the kiss and ran a hand down Sam’s chest. He grabbed the bottom of his shirts and pulled, wanting them off. He leaned back and looked carefully into Sam’s blue-green eyes when they opened for any sign that he didn’t want this, but all he saw was need…and love. Dean’s throat tightened and he swallowed as he pulled his brother’s shirts up and over the arms Sam raised for him almost automatically, so much like he had as a child when Dean would help him, but now meaning so much more, so very much more. “Sam…”

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” Sam got out through a throat tight with emotion and smiled at the look of surprised humor on his brother’s face.

Dean chuckled and nodded. He took his own shirts off and tossed them away, then took a hold of Sam’s hips, pulling him down the bed until he was lying down. “Stay.” Dean stood and self-consciously stripped off his jeans, suddenly realizing he’d gone commando that morning and blushed furiously when he saw how Sam was looking at him. “I am not a steak, dude.” He laughed and lay down beside his brother, rolling until he was half on top of him, careful of his wounded leg.

Sam ran a wondering hand down Dean’s side and over his hip with a smile. “Well, you’re making me think of eating things, so…”

Dean’s hips jerked forward as a burst of lust went through him and he laughed. “Jesus, Sammy.” He bent his head and took his mouth in another kiss, this time it was heated with so much bare skin between them and he curved a hand around Sam’s ribs, trying not to let it scare him just how much weight his brother had taken off since starting the trials. He dragged his hand across Sam’s stomach, enjoying the tremble he felt run through him. His own body shuddered in sudden need as Sam’s hands moved down to curve around his hips and smoothed over the cheeks of his ass.

“Shit, Sammy.” Dean chuckled and moved to bite along his jaw.

Sam snorted and rocked his hips up into his brother’s. The feeling of Dean’s cock rubbing against his through the thin cotton of his briefs made him gasp and arch up into him. “Holy crap.”

Dean groaned, rolling their hips together, sliding against Sam’s length through the fabric. “Oh, we are goin’ to hell.”

Sam chuckled again and shook his head, rolling it to the side to give Dean better access to his neck. “We’re not. Cas said…uh…guh…” He lost his thought for a moment as his brother bit into his neck over his pulse. “…said…um…heaven doesn’t care. Oh…fuck, yeah, right there.”

Dean growled possessively into Sam’s skin, tasting him as his brother writhed beneath him sending delicious little spikes of pleasure through him with every thrust of their hips. “Taste so good, Sammy.” It occurred to him for just a moment that he should be afraid of how easily this seemed to come to him, as if even though his mind couldn’t remember, his body did. He pushed that thought away and curved a hand under Sam’s right thigh, lifting his leg up over his own to give him a better position.

“Dean,” Sam panted and lost himself running his hands over all the miles of golden, muscled flesh open to him. He slipped a hand between them, needing to feel Dean…feel all of him, and grinned when, as he wrapped his hand around his brother’s cock, Dean reared back with a wanton shout.

“Fuck!” Dean looked down at his brother with wild eyes, watching Sam look down at his cock as he moved his hand up and down in slow strokes that stole his breath when he twisted his hand at the top and brushed his thumb over the head. “Oh…son of a bitch, Sam.” Dean dropped his head into his brother’s neck and tried to get his breath back and not come like a damn teenager even as he thrust his hips into Sam’s fist. “No…no. Wait.” Dean pulled back, breathing coming in gasps, and grinned. He brushed a kiss over Sam’s lips to ease the confusion he saw in his eyes as he knelt up and back. “I want these off.”

Sam bit at his bottom lip and nodded, lifting his hips and let Dean peel his boxer briefs over his straining cock, watching him shuffle to the end of the bed until he could get them off and then he was back. Sam tried not to blush as Dean stopped at his waist and propped himself over him to look at him -- all of him. “Dean?” Sam put a hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to come back up.

Dean shook his head and brushed a hand over Sam’s length, enjoying the heft of it in his palm as he wrapped his fingers around him. “Damn.”

Sam moaned and threw his head back. “Ah, god!”

Passion swamped Dean watching his little brother lose himself in pleasure, back arching, chest heaving, and his mouth open as needy noises came out of him with each stroke of his hand. Dean bent and licked over one of Sam’s nipples. The wanton moan that earned him made him groan and graze his teeth over it, wanting more. “God, Sammy. The noises you make.” He kissed, licked and nibbled his way down his brother’s chest and stomach until he was lying between Sam’s spread legs. He pressed a kiss to the bandage above the wound on Sam’s thigh and then turned his eyes to Sam’s cock. He knew, thanks to Castiel, that, at some point in the past, he had probably done this to Sam before, a long time ago, but he certainly couldn’t remember. It was daunting for a moment, and then Dean gave himself over to it, trusting in his body to remember what to do.

Sam shouted in shock as Dean’s mouth closed wet and hot around the head of his cock. “Fuck! Oh, my...fuck! Dean!” He put his hands in Dean’s short hair, looking down frantically as Dean took him into his mouth and hollowed his cheeks.

Dean hummed around Sam’s cock and decided he liked the way he tasted; a little bitter and a lot sweet, and he would have bet money he could blame that on the flavored excuse for coffee Sam preferred. Sam’s noises had risen in volume, and only Dean’s hands on his hips kept his little brother from thrusting up into his mouth. He could feel Sam’s muscles straining and fighting to move as the sounds became more and more frantic. Dean tilted his head to look up and thrust his own cock into the bed at the desperate sight of Sam above him, writhing on the bed and now gripping the headboard like it was the only thing holding him down.

Sam gasped for air as Dean’s mouth came off him, and he stopped himself from pushing his brother’s head back because he was so close to coming. “God…Dean.”

“Yeah, Sammy.” Dean crawled back up his body and rested his weight on top of his brothers. He got a hand between them and wrapped it around both of their cocks, rubbing his own against Sam’s spit-wet length. He kissed Sam again, licking into his mouth and owning it with his tongue. “Wanna do so many things, Sam. Fuck!”

Sam keened as Dean jerked them together and dug his nails into Dean’s back and down to his ass to pull him in faster. “Dean.” He sucked in a breath and opened his eyes to look up at him and make sure he understood. “I want you.”

“You got me, Sammy.” Dean said a little breathlessly, rubbing up and down both their shafts.

“No, Dean. I mean…shit, that feels so good.” Sam panted and brought a hand up to capture Dean’s face. “I. Want. You.”

“I…oh.” Dean’s eyes went wide with understanding and surprise, and then a feral sort of gleam came into them. “Are you sure about this?” He put his head down and brushed his lips over Sam’s. “There’s no rush here, Sammy.” He said softly. “We can take our time.” He moaned as his body rebelled against that idea with the feel of Sam’s cock against his. “Take our time with this.”

Sam smiled into the kiss and pulled Dean’s hips in harder against his. “I think…we’ve lost enough time.”

Dean groaned loudly. He broke from Sam’s lips and looked over to the first-aid kit. He pawed through it quickly and found the little tub of Vaseline and then went back to kissing him. He considered turning Sam over and discarded the thought; he didn’t want to put undue pressure on his wounded thigh. Dean dipped the fingers of one hand into the Vaseline and smiled into the kiss. He liked the idea of being able to see Sam’s face better anyway just then, and he slid a hand down again, brushed slick fingers over Sam’s cock, his balls, and loving the gasped moan his brother gave him before easing his fingers back further.

Sam sucked in a breath from Dean’s mouth as his fingers brushed his entrance and pressed experimentally. He nodded. “It’s ok. Come on.” He urged. It made him a little breathless that his body definitely knew what it wanted as he slipped a leg over Dean and canted his hips up, while he himself couldn’t remember anything.

Dean licked down Sam’s neck and found a spot at the base of his neck to suck on, moaning as Sam’s hips jerked up into his, and he pressed a finger inside him. “Fuck…me.” Dean groaned at how hot and tight it felt, and he wanted to be in there NOW dammit. He rolled his hips against his brother’s instead, brushing their cocks together while he worked that finger further inside him. “Ok, Sammy?”

“I, uh…” Sam bit his bottom lip. There were too many sensations to focus on -- Dean’s finger exploring inside him, their dicks sliding slickly together, and Dean’s lips and teeth on his neck. He added a stuttered moan of pleasure to that as Dean put his other hand into Sam’s hair and pulled, stretching that glorious expanse of neck even more open and vulnerable to him. “Shit…yeah. Do that.”

Dean chuckled darkly and tugged his brother’s ridiculously long hair again, listening to Sam’s breaths quicken. “Ok, you can keep the hair,” he said in his deep, gravelly voice gone hoarse with want, and he bit hungrily into his brother’s neck as Sam laughed and the muscles of his ass tightened around his finger.

Sam wiggled an arm down between them and fisted both their cocks together again, needing more friction as Dean slid a second finger inside him. His breath was coming in stuttering groans and the sort of needy noises he’d never heard himself make before but that Dean seemed to draw out of him so easily. He spread his legs wider, giving Dean more access as he stroked them together. He arched up into Dean with a sudden cry as Dean’s fingers hit a spot inside him that felt like a jolt of electricity up his spine. “Dean!”

Dean growled a laugh and leaned up to see Sam’s face lost in the pleasure for a moment. “Yahtzee.”

“Holy…crap! Do that again!” Sam lunged up and caught Dean’s mouth in a frantic kiss that was all teeth and tongue, trading heavy breaths and moans while he stroked them both faster, and Dean eased a third finger into him. There was the burn of pain, but the pleasure overrode it, making it into just another layer of the amazing feelings coursing through him while his brother stretched him open, and Sam barely realized he was rocking his hips up into his hand against Dean’s cock and back down onto his fingers seeking more.

“So…so fuckin’ eager. Damn.” Dean bit Sam’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth as he fucked him open on his fingers and decided they needed to get on with it because he wasn’t going to last at this rate. He could already feel his orgasm nagging at him, and, from the lost look on Sam’s face, he wasn’t far off either. “You ready for me, Sammy?”

“Yes. Yes. Shit…yes, please!” Sam nodded and brought both hands up to Dean’s head, holding him so he could kiss him properly. He pulled Dean’s tongue into his mouth and sucked hard on it, reveling in the jerk of Dean’s hips. “Now, Dean…need you.”

Dean leaned back to kneel, letting go of Sam’s hair to drag his hand down his torso over his straining chest and sweat-slick skin. “I gotcha, Sammy.” He took Sam’s heavy cock in hand while he slicked his own and gave Sam a few strokes until he was gasping and begging and Dean smiled. He inched his knees under Sam’s thighs and had to take a deep breath to steady himself as he pressed the head of his cock against Sam’s entrance. He leaned over Sam and pushed into him with a long, drawn out groan. “Shit.”

Sam gasped and dug his fingers into Dean’s shoulders, throwing his head back as the pressure of the head of Dean’s cock inside him overwhelmed him for a moment. “Dea…Dean, wait.”

Dean nodded wordlessly and held himself still while Sam buried his head under his chin and trembled. It took a massive effort to not move when he wanted nothing more than to slide home inside of Sam. “God.” He breathed into his brother’s hair and sucked a breath back in as he felt the muscles around him ease.

“Ok.” Sam panted and uncurled his fingers. “Keep…keep going.”

“Sam, are you…” Dean’s voice broke on a sobbed moan when Sam rolled his hips up impatiently and took the decision away from him as his cock slid into him in a long thrust.

Sam breathed raggedly with Dean deep inside him, filling him and he felt…complete. It brought the sting of tears to his eyes again, and he wrapped his arms around Dean’s back, needing to hold him even closer and savor the feeling.

“Easy.” Dean felt Sam’s tears on his neck and he understood because what he was feeling, being inside Sam like this…it took his breath away. He choked back the need to move and instead rested down onto Sam’s chest. He slid an arm under his shoulders and cradled the back of Sam’s head with the other. “I’m right here, little brother.”

Sam tilted his head back in Dean’s hand to look up at him and saw everything he was feeling reflected back. He felt stunned, in shock, and definitely a little cheated that they’d been denied this for so long and not even known. He couldn’t help but wonder how many of the times they’d hurt each other and pushed each other away had been the aversion working through them, forcing them apart. “I’m sorry.” Sam gasped. “God, Dean…”

“Don’t you dare.” Dean caught his mouth and silenced Sam, eating the taste of him from his lips and tongue until he was gasping again for the right reasons. Dean leaned back and smiled down at him, tightening his fingers in Sam’s hair as he rolled his hips, shifting his cock inside Sam so he moaned. “Doesn’t matter…none of it. Just this.” He rested his forehead on Sam’s. “Just us.”

“Then you need to move.” Sam let the upsetting thoughts go and smiled again. He slid a hand down to Dean’s hip, took hold and pulled him in tighter as his eyes fell closed.

Dean grunted and pulled his hips back, sliding slowly out of Sam until just the head of his cock was still inside him. He pulled Sam’s hair, earning another gasp and pushed back inside. “Fuck, Sam…so tight.” The sensation of sliding into all that tight, fluttering muscle was new and familiar at the same time, and when he had the idea to pull Sam’s leg out, tilt his hips just so, and thrust in, he went with it, and Sam shouted under him as Dean nailed his sweet spot with his cock and Sam’s muscles clamped around him for a moment. “Guh…fuck. Doin’ _that_ again, damn!”

Sam nodded, speechless with the feel of Dean moving inside him. He bit into his shoulder instead as Dean picked up the pace, thrusting into him faster and harder and driving a string of needy whimpers and cries from his lips around his flesh. Dean’s stomach rubbed Sam’s cock on each thrust, heightening the pleasure that was quickly overtaking him. “Dean…so close. Shit!”

Dean gave Sam’s hair another pull, growling down into his mouth as Sam whined and slid his hand down to his brother’s cock. “Come for me, Sammy.” He shoved deep into Sam, relishing the sound of their skin slapping together and the grunts and cries Sam couldn’t hold in. He stroked Sam’s cock in time with each thrust, keeping that angle he’d found so Sam jolted with a cry of pleasure on each thrust. Sam’s arms tightened around him as he threw his head back and screamed out his orgasm on Dean’s name while Dean watched in awe at the beauty of it…of his little brother, all gleaming, shuddering muscle in the throes of the ecstasy Dean had brought him.

“Sam!” Dean shouted his name as Sam’s muscles spasmed and clenched impossibly tight around him and his own orgasm slammed through him and stole his breath. He came pushed as deep inside Sam as he could get, shouting his release as he collapsed onto his brother while the world whited out around him. Dean came back to his senses listening to his and Sam’s labored breaths and feeling Sam’s hand running lightly up and down his back.

“Hey,” Sam said softly, content beneath Dean’s weight and not even caring that he was squishing him a little.

“Mmph.” Dean grunted and managed to roll his head down and into Sam’s hair, breathing in the scent of him.

Sam chuckled and slid the fingers of his other hand into Dean’s short, spiky hair. “You ok?”

“Seriously?” Dean got his head up and smirked down at his brother. “Pretty sure I just lost a few brain cells out my…”

Sam snorted and kissed him to shut him up. “Don’t ruin the moment, jerk.”

“Bitch.” Dean grinned into the kiss. He shifted his hips, easing gently out of Sam and kissed him again in apology as Sam hissed in discomfort. “Sorry.” He eased off his brother to his back, slid his arm under him and rolled Sam into his chest.

“I’m not.” Sam smiled and let his head roll under Dean’s chin.

Dean closed his arm around his brother’s back, looking up at the ceiling and sighed. “They were right you know. The way I feel right now, I’d have left hunting back then to not lose you, Sammy.”

Sam nodded. “Me too.” He slid his arm over Dean’s chest. “They’re still douches.”

Dean laughed softly and pressed his cheek into Sam’s hair. “Yeah, they are.” He felt Sam going heavy against him and smirked, realizing he had a way to make sure Sam actually got sleep now. He rubbed a hand over Sam’s back to try and ease him completely into it. “Get some rest.”

“Mmm hmm.” Sam replied sleepily, the hypnotic feel of Dean’s hand on his back helping him slide under to sleep peacefully for the first time in longer than he could remember.

“I’ve gotcha, little brother,” Dean said softly and was more determined than ever to make sure Sam came through these trials alive and in one piece; and more than that, to make sure nothing in heaven or hell ever had the opportunity to screw with their heads again. He closed his eyes and followed Sam into sleep with a smile.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

_The End._

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt: Sam and Dean had been in love... They'd been in a relationship but it led them away from the life the angels and demons wanted. So their memories were wiped...and reset.


End file.
